


Discovering sensations new and brave

by storiesfortravellers



Category: Classical Music RPF, French Romanticism RPF, Historical RPF, Impromptu (Film), Literary RPF
Genre: Classical Music, F/M, Music Kink, Sensation Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-15
Updated: 2012-09-15
Packaged: 2017-11-14 06:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesfortravellers/pseuds/storiesfortravellers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>George Sand loves hearing Chopin play. Short meditation from Sand's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Discovering sensations new and brave

When they are alone, she drapes herself onto his piano; she does it fearlessly, as if there were nothing more natural in the world, as if no one has ever apologized for being swept away by their passions. He plays, and though he imagines usually that he plays for himself, for the song itself, there is no denying it now: on these occasions, he plays for her. He chooses pieces that evoke stormswept landscapes or love affairs gone terribly wrong. He moves things around, plays an octave lower than is right, so he can send the headier vibrations through his instrument. She leans tight against the smooth planes of the piano, pressing closer to that sound, feeling every note, every chord, resonate through, around, within her body. She imagines her flesh is humming, trembling like a plucked string inside the bowels of the piano, and in the flights of her imagination, she is an instrument playing a song that has never been heard, a song too truthful to reveal itself until the chaos of the current age. She is the instrument, and the instrument is his hands, his fingers across the keys, and soon the brilliance of these hands is part of her, their flurry of movement is not just the cause but the very expression of her bliss. She feels his music, and her mind wonders at this thing, this amazing thing: that a person can feel, that feeling might be precisely what makes one a person and not a thing. She feels, and she wonders if words will ever expose the truth of what it means to feel, to live a life of feeling, and she imagines a stack of sheets, a heap of paper taller than herself, with all the words she will use to try and speak a single, true _feeling._


End file.
